Jack had been wrong when he’d called Marianne “passionate” about her theater. That was a massive understatement. He wasn’t sure there was a word to adequately describe how she felt about old movies, and introducing them to new audiences.
Her speech – dissertation, maybe? – while they were walking her dog was all the argument necessary to declare the theater an historical landmark, as far as he was concerned. Unfortunately, he couldn’t bring her down to Salem and set her loose on his boss. Direct testimony from the owner of a property under consideration was not allowed.
His boss had explained the policy to him when he’d joined her department: “Of course the owner will make a strong case for their property. It’s like asking a parent if they think their baby is beautiful – what else are they going to say?”
He could see the sense in that, but this was a special case. Nobody who listened to Marianne could possibly fail to be swayed by her passion – there was that inadequate word again. And he could see now, having seen three movies there, and seen how the audience reacted to them, that it wasn’t just the movies. The experience of the Esmerelda had a lot to do with it, seeing those movies in a theater that had been designed for them, not just a boring rectangular cookie-cutter of an auditorium like most modern movie theaters were.
He knew what his report would say, now. He only hoped his words would convey what he’d learned here, and convince his boss, and her bosses.
Which left the question of what to say to Marianne herself. He was falling for her, no doubt about that. Or maybe it was more accurate to say he had fallen for her. Completely, irrevocably fallen. Her energy, her love for what she did and for her town and her family’s legacy, that was all irresistible. The fact that she was beautiful, too, didn’t even enter into his feelings, and that had never happened to him before.
But she was beautiful. Her bluish-green – or were they greenish-blue? – eyes sparkled. Her long, light brown hair was gorgeous. And she even managed to pull off that ridiculous fake fur coat with style to spare, and that was no mean achievement.
To top it all off, she ate real food! Cheeseburgers and chili fries! Up until his last girlfriend, Tamara, he had never given much thought to the diet of any woman he’d been interested in. But Tamara had been a health nut, to put it mildly. And because she liked him so much, she shared her nuttiness with him. Or, more accurately, forced it on him whenever they ate together. She meant well, but man was not meant to live on tofu and smoothies made with unpronounceable ingredients and which came out of the blender the same color and consistency as industrial waste.
Jack had learned his lesson. When a woman broke out the protein powder and the weird fruits, it was time to run away. Marianne had a normal diet, one he could share, and enjoy, like a sane person.
There was only one problem: the Duck-Man. Marianne liked his electronic alter-ego. He was in a love triangle, with himself as his rival. Clark Kent had the same problem, in the old movie, the one with Christopher Reeve. How had he resolved the problem?
It had been a long time since Jack had seen the movie; he had to look it up online to see what had happened, and it turned out that Clark didn’t tell Lois Lane he was Superman until halfway through the second movie, and Lois had taken the news very well.
But Superman could fly, and shoot heat rays from his eyes, and he saved the whole world. Anyone would forgive him a lie or two. Jack, on the other hand, could not fly except with a plane ticket, did not have the ability to shoot anything from his eyes, and he’d never saved anyone, let alone a whole planet. He didn’t think that Marianne would forgive his lies as easily as Lois forgave Superman’s.
What if she never found out about his lie, though? He could probably convince his boss to take his name completely out of his report, once it was filed. Then, after her application was approved and the Esmerelda was declared a landmark, he could tell Marianne that he’d been transferred to the Office of Historical Preservation from the tourism board.
That might work. She’d get her landmark status, and he wouldn’t technically be lying to her anymore about his job. But that still left the issue of the Duck-Man. Jack needed to get him out of the picture somehow, and he didn’t want to simply ghost Marianne. That was a crummy thing to do.
What had Jimmy Stewart done in The Shop Around the Corner? He was in the same situation, wasn’t he? Jack began to laugh, just as he had the other night in the theater. That had been the funniest scene in the whole movie, the moment when Jimmy Stewart told Margaret Sullivan that he knew her pen-pal, and began to describe him to her.
Yes. Definitely. That could totally work.